


five times amira didn't trust mohammed, and the one time she did

by crvciatvs



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-07-31 09:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20112577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crvciatvs/pseuds/crvciatvs
Summary: “Just admit that you should’ve trusted me.” His tone was teasing, but he seemed earnest.He was right, Amira should’ve trusted him. He had never let her down, and she had known him long enough to know that he wouldn’t ever let her down. And yet, it was difficult to trust him, to trust anyone. How could she when trusting someone didn't just mean relying on them? It meant letting them know you completely; it meant trusting them with every part of yourself, even the parts she hid from everyone. Especially those parts.No, she didn't trust him, and she doubted she ever would. Trust was a fool's game, and if there was one thing Amira definitely wasn't, it was a fool.





	five times amira didn't trust mohammed, and the one time she did

I. “Trust me, it’ll taste great.”

Mohammed dangled the piece of chocolate over the bubbling sauce, his eyebrows raised as he waited for Amira to answer. She hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth between the chocolate and Mohammed’s pleading eyes. Taking her silence as acquiescence, he dropped the chocolate into the pan and stirred it in.

“Hey, I didn’t say yes!’ She protested, watching helplessly as the chocolate melted into the sauce. Mohammed picked up a spoon from the counter and scooped some of the sauce up. Wordlessly, he turned to her and held the spoon to her lips. When she made no move to open her mouth, startled by the overfamiliar gesture, he motioned with his head to the spoon. She opened her mouth and let him feed her the sauce. Struck dumb by the earnestness plain in his eyes, she swallowed quickly, and after a few moments of silence, suddenly realised that the sauce had tasted…good. The chocolate had made it deeper, richer, and worked well with the spices. She was loath to admit it, but he had been right.

“Well?” He questioned, obviously growing impatient with the silence.

“It tastes the same.” She struggled in vain to keep a straight face as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The corner of her mouth lifted despite her best efforts, and his face split into a blinding grin as he caught on.

“Just admit that you should’ve trusted me.” His tone was teasing, but he seemed earnest.

He was right, Amira should’ve trusted him. He had never let her down, and she had known him long enough to know that he wouldn’t ever let her down. And yet, it was difficult to trust him, to trust anyone. How could she when trusting someone didn't just mean relying on them? It meant letting them know you completely; it meant trusting them with every part of yourself, even the parts she hid from everyone. Especially those parts.

No, she didn't trust him, and she doubted she ever would. Trust was a fool's game, and if there was one thing Amira definitely wasn't, it was a fool.

II. "Mohammed is the type of man who would never let you down."

"You're so right. Did you know he works in a kindergarten?"

"No way. He is the perfect man."

Amira stayed silent while her friends gushed over Mohammed, who had been a constant topic of conversation since the girls had first met him. She felt the jealousy brimming inside of her, threatening to spill over if Sam continued to show Kiki and Hanna pictures of Mohammed from his instagram feed. 

"How do you know if Mohammed is truly so perfect? He might be a slob who treats his loved ones like trash. You can't truly know a person just from one meeting and looking at their instagram." Amira let the words fall from her in a rush, getting increasingly agitated. 

The girls stared at her wide eyed, unable to comprehend why Amira felt so strongly about this. Amira felt regret creeping up on her. They didn't deserve her ire. it's not like they knew how she felt about Mohammed.

She was about to apologise when Sam suddenly piped up, breaking the silence, "wait a minute... If anyone knows how Mohammed truly is, then it's you, Amira. He's your brothers' friend! So tell us, what is he actually like?"

Stunned into silence, Amira's mouth worked silently, not able to form an actual answer. They looked at her expectantly, eager to hear stories about the type of man Mohammed really was. 

Amira found it impossible to say what she really thought of him. How could she tell them that he really might be the perfect man? She could hardly tell them how he fit seamlessly into her life, how he would smile and her stomach would explode in a flurry of butterflies, or how his words would be soft spoken even when he was teasing her. 

"If I had known him as long as you have, I definitely would've fallen in love with him by now." Sam joked, saving Amira from having to answer her question. 

"Sam, you don't even know if he's single." Hanna pointed out, causing Sam and Kiki to both try and dissect his instagram to prove to Hanna that he must be single.

As they argued over whether the lack of girls in his photos indicated his availability, Amira stayed silent, even though she knew Mohammed didn't have a girlfriend. The thought made her skin prickle, and her mouth went dry suddenly. It occurred to her that one day Mohammed might find someone who would wholeheartedly reciprocate his feelings. She imagined having to attend Mohammed's wedding to a beautiful girl and felt sick to her stomach. He wouldn't wait forever, and she knew that she might never be able to completely let him in. The thought that her own inability to trust someone entirely would eventually lead to her alienating Mohammed was unbearable. However, the only alternative was learning to love and trust another person wholly, and that felt impossible. 

She was stuck. She could either let him in or lock him out, and it felt like the time for deciding which was running out. 

III. “Psst, Amira, come here. He won’t find you here, trust me.”

Amira whirled around, trying to locate the source of the whispers. Her eye caught on a hand waving at her from behind a bush. A small smile crept onto her face as she hurried over to the bush, behind which Mohammed was crouching.

"He's definitely going to find us here. And you have a leaf in your hair."

"I do? Where?" He asked, batting uselessly at his hair, missing the leaf every time.

"Here, let me." Her small smile had widened into a toothy grin as she pulled the leaf from his curls, her fingers brushing his soft locks as she did. Her hand lingered in his hair longer than they should've, enjoying the feeling of his hair in between her fingers.

Her eyes moved from where her fingers were in his hair to his eyes, where she found him staring at her unabashedly. She cleared her throat and her eyes -and fingers- slipped away from him. Sometimes his gaze was so intense it made her wonder what he was thinking. Why would he look at her like that?

Mohammed opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from in front of the bush.

"Litschi...come out, come out, wherever you are." Essam shouted, in a singsong voice. His water gun swung next to the bush, and Amira had to stifle her giggles as he passed in front of the bush, completely unaware that two of his targets were face to face with the tip of the gun.

"Aha, I've got you now," Essam whispered, causing Amira to freeze, before he continued in a loud shout, "no, don't run Omar, I can see you!"

With a jolt he took off in a run across the garden, the water gun swinging as he went. Amira stuck her head above the bush, watching him run in the opposite direction, and slumped down behind the bush with a breathless chuckle.

"You thought we were done for, didn't you?" Mohammed questioned, continuing before she could feebly protest, "I knew he wouldn't see us. I know how all of you Mahmood siblings work."

His grin was sly, and Amira's throat went dry as his words sunk in. The idea that Mohammed could know so much about her, that he might be able to work out everything she was thinking, was scary. It was more than that, it was terrifying. She didn't consciously try to shut people out, but it always ended up that way. People would ask personal questions and she wouldn't budge, and after a while they stopped asking. They stopped caring. And she liked it like that.

But she didn't want Mohammed to stop caring. She felt so much uncertainty around every other aspect of their relationship, but the one thing she knew for sure is that she never wanted to push him away. 

IV. “I trust Mohammed. So should you."

"What are you saying Omar?" She knew exactly what he was trying to say, but playing dumb felt like her only option. 

"What I'm trying to say, Amira, is that Mohammed is a good man. You could do a lot worse." 

Amira opened her mouth to deny that there was anything between her and Mohammed, but stopped short when Omar raised an eyebrow. There was no point in denial; Omar knew everything, he was more observant than she gave him credit for.

"When you were younger, you used to tell mama about everything you wanted at your wedding, pointing out the henna designs you liked and the makeup you wanted. I would tell you that in order to have a wedding, you'd have to find someone to marry first. You would stick your tongue out at me and say that no one would ever be good enough for you. I used to laugh, thinking that I would use your words against you one day, but as you got older, you stuck to your words. It seemed to me that you deliberately closed yourself off to the possibility that one day you could love someone. I thought that maybe you had been right, and that no one would ever be good enough for you. That is, until I saw the way Mohammed looks at you. I doubt any person exists who would treat you better than Mohammed does."

"Omar..." She trailed off into silence, allowing his words to sink in. 

"I'm your older brother Amira, and I thought that I would always be the one to criticise the person you chose. But even I have to admit that you and Mohammed make a good pair. So tell me, what is standing in your way?"

Amira swallowed the lump in her throat and pondered over his question. She couldn't deny the way Mohammed made her feel. Any time he was around her heart started racing, and when their gazes locked, she found it almost impossible to look away. Mohammed was hypnotic, and she could hardly control the way her thoughts centered around him. Beyond the physical attraction, he made her feel safe and content; he was ceaselessly respectful and sensitive. She felt that she had no need to ever voice her thoughts because Mohammed already knew everything that passed through her mind. 

"I'm not there yet Omar," she answered honestly, "I can't...not yet." 

Omar nodded solemnly, seemingly understanding the unsaid words. He knew better than most that it was hard to gain Amira's trust. He had watched her push away the people she loved most. He just hoped that Mohammed would be the one that she would let in. 

V. “Trust me, our team is going to win."

Essam let out a surprised laugh at Mohammed's confidence and shook his head in disbelief, before asking, "with my sister on your team?"

"Hey!" complained Amira, glaring at Essam with as much scorn as she could manage.

"Don't underestimate your sister, Essam. Boxers are light on their feet. She'll take the ball from you without you even realising." Mohammed retorted jokingly.

The praise made Amira feel giddy, and she had to look at the floor to stop herself from doing something embarrassing, like giggling. When she finally looked up, she found Omar looking between her and Mohammed knowingly, but he said nothing.

"We'll see. Now let's play!" Amira, Mohammed, David, Kiki and Jonas were on one team, whilst Essam, Omar, Carlos, Abdi and Sam were on the other, and with these words, the game began. 

They played fiercely, with Matteo and Hanna cheering them on from the sidelines. Amira felt herself becoming increasingly immersed in the game as she strived to prove that Mohammed was right to have chosen her for his team. 

In the first ten minutes, Carlos and Abdi had both scored, each time Kiki unable to stop the ball from hitting the net behind her. After a few more minutes, Mohammed managed to kick the ball into the net over Omar's head. Amira whooped loudly, giggling in exhilaration as her team celebrated. Her eyes caught Mohammed's and they grinned at each other, unable to hide their sheer happiness. 

As the game continued, David managed to score, causing Matteo to shout praise loudly. Amira watched as David jogged over to the sideline to plant a kiss on Matteo's cheek. She couldn't look away from their open affection, watching the easy and practised way in which they interacted with each other. A sudden surge of envy made her blink and avert her gaze. More than anything, she wanted to have what they had. Their love was so clear to see, and she wondered if one day her and Mohammed could ever be as close as them. 

She shook her head minutely to clear those thoughts from her head and instead focussed on the game at hand. The short game was drawing to a close, with Hanna shouting that only a few minutes remained. Fuelled by the thought of making Mohammed proud, she rushed towards the ball, which was being passed to Essam. With a skill she didn't realise she possessed, she kicked the ball away from Essam, and started to run towards the goal, maneuvering the ball forward between her feet. As she neared the goal, she pulled her right foot backwards and put all her energy into propelling the ball into the net. She watched in disbelief as Omar reached out to push the ball away, failing to do so as the ball brushed past his fingers and into the back of the net. 

Her team cheered and rushed towards her to congratulate her on the goal, as the other team groaned, their defeat almost certain as only one minute remained. 

As Hanna announced the game was finished, Amira turned to Mohammed, who was wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and said, "I can't believe we won!"

"You should've trusted me when I said we would." Mohammed replied, as they walked to the sidelines. He reached down to collect a water bottle from the cooler, and handed it to her.

She thanked him, and pretended to busy herself with the bottle as she took a moment to collect herself. It felt to her that Mohammed was talking about a lot more than his prediction, like he was trying to tell Amira that she should trust him more. When she looked up from her bottle, she saw Mohammed chatting to her brothers, and in that moment, it felt less impossible to trust him. It felt almost attainable. Maybe someday soon, she could. Not yet though. Not right then. 

* * *

“Don’t you trust me?”

Mohammed held the blindfold in his hands, and arched a challenging eyebrow at her. Amira waited for a moment, taking it all in. She had opened her door to Mohammed, beaming at her with a wide grin, and asking if he could blindfold her and take her somewhere.

“I do. I trust you.” She answered honestly, the words falling from her lips with little effort. The words surprised her almost as much as they seemed to surprise him. She thought that it would have been more difficult to admit that to him. His smile became more fond, and it made her feel warm inside, and she couldn't bring herself to regret her sudden declaration. She hadn't even realised that she did trust him, but seeing him standing there made her feel as though Mohammed could ask her to do anything and she would. The lengths she would go to for him didn't even scare her because she knew he would never ask too much of her. 

It didn't seem like the sudden leap of faith that she had always imagined it would be. In fact, after saying the words out loud, she thought that maybe she had always trusted him. She had just been reluctant to ever admit it to herself. 

"Ok, then let's go." His words were said quietly, seemingly calm, but this was belied by the excitement gleaming in his eyes. 

His touch was reverent as he carefully wrapped the fabric around her eyes, tying it loosely at the back. As she struggled to gather her bearings, she couldn't find it within her to regret agreeing, especially as his hands gently guided her over the front doorstep of her house, shutting the door behind them.

"I hope you're not planning to take me too far." She imagined they looked quite ridiculous, her stumbling blindly while Mohammed held her forearm and walked behind her. The blackness seemed less daunting than it should've, probably due to the presence of the warm body behind her, almost cradling her as she walked. 

"No, don't worry, I wouldn't do that to you. In fact, we're nearly there, we just have to walk up a few flights of stairs." He proclaimed confidently, while Amira felt considerably less confident about her ability to climb stairs without the use of her eyes. 

They walked on in silence, occasionally broken by clear instructions by Mohammed on where she should step. After a few minutes, they stopped abruptly, and he informed her that this was where their ascent began. She leaned back into his chest as they made their way up the stairs, using him as an anchor, whilst he guided her up the steps. His tone was reassuring and she felt the tension draining as they moved with ease. She realised with a jolt that she had always known deep down that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. 

"Finally, we're here. I wasn't sure how much longer I would've been able to keep pushing you up the stairs." Mohammed chuckled, stepping back from her. She let out a surprised laugh and attempted to swat at what she thought was his chest, but her hand met only air, making them both laugh louder. 

Amira heard the sound of hinges squeaking, and Mohammed took her by the arm again to propel her through a door. On the other side, he positioned her, before stepping behind her, whispering, "are you ready?"

She nodded and let out a shaky breath as he deftly untied the knot, and let the blindfold fall from her eyes. She blinked slowly, allowing herself a moment to adjust from the pitch black to the bright lights that seemed to be surrounding her. 

As she properly began to take in the sight before her, she realised that Mohammed had taken her to a rooftop to look at the city she had known her whole life, and seen from countless angles. It was a cliché, a hopelessly romantic and entirely unoriginal idea, but she felt her breath leave her in a rush regardless. Something about the gleaming skyline seemed different when she viewed it by Mohammed's side. 

She turned to speak to him, catching him watching her with a hopeful gaze. He seemed more nervous up here than he had at her front door, and it was so endearing that Amira had no power over the way the corners of her lips quirked up, before stretching out into a smile.

"Do you like it?" He asked quickly, before she could say anything.

"Yes. I love it. Thank you for bringing me here. Even if I have seen the Berlin skyline more times than I could count." She teased, unable to resist. 

"That's not all though." He gestured with his hand to the rooftop behind her. She turned to see what other surprises he had.

A veritable feast was laid out on several blankets: some of her favourite dishes wrapped in cling film; colourful sweets piled up in boxes; even tubs of ice cream were arranged artfully. She felt her heart swell with gratitude. Had anyone ever put in so much effort for her? Much to her surprise, she even began to feel somewhat choked up by a wave of emotion. 

All the while, Mohammed had been watching her carefully with a small smile, and instead of speaking, he pulled her over to sit, somehow realising that she was lost for words. As they both settled down to sit comfortably on the blankets, Amira allowed herself a private smile. 

She watched him set out the dishes, and spoon some food onto her plate. In that moment, tranquility settled upon her like a blanket. 

She felt secure in the knowledge that Mohammed was the one person in the world that she could tell anything and everything to. She knew he would understand her every word implicitly. A few days ago this feeling would have terrified her. The thought of one person having so much power over her, and being so important to her should have made her feel anguished and confused. But now, in the moment, she felt that there was nothing better than this. She had been so unwilling to open herself up to him, fearing that it would all blow up in her face; yet, the opposite was true. Trusting Mohammed was as easy as breathing. 


End file.
